Waking The Dead

Half Moon Bay Weyr - Hot Springs
Created by the fires of the volcano a pocket of ancient air has created this huge open cavern in the black stone. Most of the floor is covered by bubbling mineral water that gleams azure in the dim light of glows. Swirls of green, blue, red, yellow, black and white are awash on the walls and floor, earmarks of earlier times when the hot water boiled out of its bed and rose to fill the dark cavern.

A few signs of humanity can be found. A trunk with soft fluffy towels, soap and a boardwalk erected through the middle of the four pools so that people can find their way to the hot water without burning their feet along the way. It is rumored that an hour in the hot water can melt away even the worse of troubles, leaving a person relaxed and ready to face a new day with vigor.

It's /that time of the morning/. You know that time of the morning; it's that time when you wake up, and there's no sunlight peeking through anything, and you absolutely know that your body has betrayed you because /nobody should be awake/ at this hour. But Pritkin is. Pritkin is wide awake, as a matter of fact, though being extremely quiet as he makes his way through the not-so-well lit barracks and attempts to avoid losing a toe in the process. He's dressed in clothes that look like they belong to the holdless: the seams are fraying, there's holes, and patches, and bits that look as though they've been repaired hundreds of thousands of times. The clothing is loose fitting, long sleeved, long legged, and complemented by a pair of boots that, despite looking worn, seem significantly more /new/ than anything else the blond is wearing. Pritkin's unfortunate hair (because it can only be referred to as unfortunate) is slick with sweat, but still somehow managing to defy gravity with mocking angles. "Faranth," comes a his, and a clutter, and then silence as the guard-candidate finds himself on the floor, staring up at the ceiling having tripped over his own cot. Graceful, isn't he?

For someone who's not usually up till lunchtime, it might strike as odd that Jaelyn is sneaking back into the candidate barracks at this ungodly hour. It's a miracle that no one has either reported him or he's gotten caught. Who knows if this is the first time, but its probably unlikely to be the last. It's the clatter that freezes him into place, golden eyes darting in that direction as he slowly turns his head towards the commotion. "Yer loud enough to wake the dead." he hisses at Pritkin, jerking his chin towards the room of still sleeping candidates unfortunate enough not to possess their own private rooms. At least in his mind no doubt! Who'd want to share a giant cavern full of strangers? Blech. Grump-frown in place, he slips into his room and disappears. It's not for long though, because he reemerges with a towel over his shoulder and wearing little more than his skivvies and a pair of swim trunks. The kid has two large tattoos, one on the upper portion of his left arm and the other beneath his right arm along his side. Considering the gloom of the early morning, any detail is difficult to make out. Someone is clearly on their way to bathe, before anyone else is awake enough to crowd the place.

"Am I?" comes the almost innocently inquisitive whisper, seconds before the guard smiles from his ill-conceived resting place and huffs out a breathily quiet bit of laughter. "I hadn't noticed." But Jaelyn is disappearing into his Jae-Cave, and Pritkin stares after the sudden dark void where the candidate once stood before slowly pushing himself up to sit. Coincidentally (OR IS IT?), Jaelyn is /not/ the only one with a bath in mind, and when he re-emerges making a fashion-statement with skivvies, towels, and swimming trunks, Pritkin blinks after him from beneath his own towel and a change of clothing; he is /not/, however, dressed down like the grump-faced computer nerd (YEAH I SAID IT) before him. "Are you also going to bathe?" he whispers, feet already carrying him towards the exit and Jaelyn in search of the one thing he wants the most: some very. hot. water. He /is/ dripping sweat, after all. 10 mile runs at ridiculously ludicrous hours tend to do that to people.

Jaelyn snorts quietly at Pritkin, eyeballing the older male some before he makes his way towards the exit. It was the kind of look that had he done it to a woman, he would have likely been slapped or told off . "Ya." comes his short reply, already headed out of the barracks again. He nearly bumps into someone from the kitchen, who all but withers beneath the narrowed gaze of the computer crafter. He might not be as impressively built like Heryn, but he made up for it with intimidation factor. Then again, given the world-worn slump of his shoulders and the dark circles under his eyes, the grumpiness was likely from lack of sleep. Or it was just in his nature to be a complete and utter dick, who knows. When the worker scurries off very very quickly, he huffs some and continues on his way, turning this corner and that as if he'd always been a resident of Half Moon Bay, rather than just a few sevendays. He pays poor Pritkin no mind at all, as he enters the bathing cavern and tosses down his stuff, completely disrobing. Weyrbred is weyrbred. The glows within the cavern are never out, and so the dragons in flight in persuit of a queen etched into the skin of his right side is plain as day, as is the lotus flowers and butterflies on a sea of blue waves on his left shoulder, and a glint of something metal amongst his nethers before he steps in pool of otherwise empty bathing cavern. He sinks down into the hot, steamy water, up to the line of his jaw and there he remains, lids closing.

Thankfully, Pritkin is /not/ a woman, and so Jaelyn is spared biting words and vengeful hands; as a matter of fact, Pritkin seems more confused by the look than anything. His own bemusement is readily cast aside when, on their journey to get clean, Jaelyn showcases his intimidation factor by chasing off one very unfortunate kitchen aide — with a /look/. Pritkin pauses long enough to watch the unfortunate soul scurry off to safety, and then furrows his brows as green eyes seek out Jaelyn again, studying the set of his shoulders and the structuring of his back as he leaves Pritkin behind with his thoughts. The guard is slow to start his feet moving again, but manages to make it into the bathing caverns shortly after the younger teenager does — in just enough time to catch sight of his tattoos and pretend he saw no glint from any places below Jaelyn's navel, thank you very much. It's not that he's shy, but there's clear hesitation on Pritkin's part to join His Royal Grumpiness in the water, evident in the deliberately slow movements he makes while removing his clothing. His shirt comes first, peeling away from his body, and beneath a too-loose tunic is a hard body, muscular and taut with expertly reigned strength. There's an alarming amount of weapons hidden too, which he slowly removes and wraps up in his belongings. He may not be inked like Jaelyn, but he is marked, just on his shoulder, where a spattering of scars leaves a patterned of raised, discolored flesh. The next thing to go are his boots, followed by his pants (all of which get tossed haphazardly beside his tunic and tools), and then he's joining Jaelyn in the water. He's silent for a moment, green eyes fixated as his brain debates conversation, and then he's saying a very soft, "Are you okay?" He could have asked Jaelyn /anything/, really, but those dark circles and that evident slump seem to be the most eye-catching thing to him at the moment.

Golden eyes drift open, idly watching the gaurd disrobe with passing interest, but it's mild at best. Jaelyn really was too tired to make much of an effort in being inappropriate for a candidate, sinking lower into the water until the level of it covers his lips. This allows him to breathe at least, though the way he's going he might drown anyway. There is no expression to be seen when weapons are pulled out or scars are revealed, merely watching Pritkin much like one would view the ocean or a lush garden, appreciating the view but nothing beyind it. He does disappear momentarily, dunking himself to get inky black hair thoroughly wet before popping back up again. "Yer awful timid for a guard." he mutters, now drawing himself up as the older man clearly appears hesitant in joining him in the bathing pool. Standing, the water keeps things well above a PG rating, severing his body in half at the navel, as he reaches over and grabs some soapsand. Not really an answer to the question now is it? Without waiting for a response, he starts scrubbing at his skin with the stuff, hard enough to turn the uninked pale portions decidedly red. While his face remains rather stoney, there is a determination in his gaze.

A LUSH GARDEN? Pritkin will take the compliment, thanks! When the older teenager is told that he's timid for a guard, those brows furrow together in bemusement before locking with Jaelyn's gaze. He looks as though he's going to say something, but his jaw tightens instead, seconds before he gives the moody teenager a smile and disappears, mimicking Jaelyn's retreat under water. When Pritkin surfaces, his own unfortunate locks are now subdued and clinging to his ears, the back of his neck, and a I-couldn't-be-bothered-to-shave-yesterday-and-possibly-the-day-before bit of scruff on his face. "I didn't know there was a type," he says only then, wiping water from his eyes. There's no sarcasm or bite to his tone, merely a hint of confusion that is overwhelmed by friendly amusement. "What are guards normally like?" And then there's a pause, as green eyes study a younger face with an intensity that, while not clinical, is not detached, either. Those eyes stray to the vigorous determination of his scrubbing hands, and Pritkin's amusement flees at the sight of angry flesh. Okay. Maybe he's wrong, but he is deciding that Jaelyn is /not all right/. "Doesn't that hurt?" comes the suddenly gentle question, hesitation in place only because he isn't sure if his guess work is placing him somewhere in left field or not.

There is a gentle shrug of the comptuer crafter's tattooed shoulder for the returned question, keeping his eyeballs to himself now that he's gotten all his curiosity out of the way, "Heryn, comes to mind." he mutters, mentioning the tall mountain of masculine muscle with all the familiarity of a mug of cold klah. "All the guards I ever knew were big, and mean." Course he does not tell the older man that most of them had been sent to drag him bodily to the Weyrleader's office after this or that fight, but whose counting? While Pritkin's expression may not be detached, Jaelyn's was, even as he moves on to scrub his other arm as raw as he had the first. "Pain dun hurt." he says after a pause and a momentary flick of his eyes at the other candidate. Rather odd stance, but okay. After this though, he goes one to ask in his completely even tone, lacking in negative or positive inclination, "Ya always so concerned about people ya dun know?"

Pritkin's eyes stray at the name, as if trying to put a face to it, and then his attention is right back on Jaelyn. Big and mean? There's a ghost of a smile in return for this observation, followed by, "You can't have met very many decent guards, then." He doesn't ask about the decidedly unfriendly intonation of 'Heryn'; it is simply not his business. It's his 'Pain dun hurt' comment that has Pritkin raising his brows, and then furrowing them again in confusion. Determining what to say, Pritkin retrieves his own soapsand to scrub with, and he's much less abusive to his body than Jaelyn. "Then what does hurt?" it's asked soft, without judgement, and then Jaelyn's asking that last question and Pritkin hesitates before washing away some of that clinging sand. "Yes," he admits, then asks, "Does it bother you?"

The rest of Jaelyn's skin gets the same treatment as his poor arms, and while he doesn't scrub it enough to make it bleed it still had to sting in that hot steamy water. He doesn't seem to much care if Pritkin can't put a face to the name he'd given, and he doesn't bring it up again or attempt to describe who it was that he was talking about. Last to get the savage scrub treatment is his hair, paying absolutely no mind in how more than a few strands of the dark locks are yanked prematurely free at the roots. He dunks then, rinsing it all off before reappearing and slicking the wet locks back over the curve of his skull. Golden eyes level then on the guard, lashes lowering partially over them, "We dun know each other even close to good enough for me to be sharin' mah inner pain." he says flat and blunt, already pulling himself up and out of the pool without much ado. Grabbing his towel, he dries off a bit before wrapping it around his waist and picking up his discarded clothes. "Everythin' bothers meh." This is dropped just as tonelessly and matter-of-fact, before he heads out and disappears around the corner.

/Well then/. Pritkin will watch Jaelyn go in silence, and then, after a pause, return to his bath. Ah, well. At least it's quiet now…

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